Escape from Fantasy Island
Author: Brandia Deatherage | Published: January 1st, 2011
It’s gorgeous outside today. Beyond and above my computer monitor, I can tilt my head back to look up through the large window facing me and see shapes move across my vision: an albino alligator smoking a hookah, a white motorcar blowing exhaust, a blank void turning into a glittery peep show. I don't care what kind of fancy piece of technology you have; nature, plus a good imagination, always steals the stage.
I’m convinced, now more than ever, that spring was named after what it inspires: unbridled, spontaneous action. And so it is, that at the tail end of winter, with just a hint of the season to come, on a Tuesday, I’m going to make a lifestyle shift that will free up huge banks of airtime for all my spring adventures. I’m going to give up watching television.
Ever since the 1980’s, ‘wanting my MTV’ felt as natural as making trails of Reese’s Pieces leading to my bedroom, helping two Italian plumbers save a princess, or wearing a monokini and side ponytail. (I was duped.) But if I’m ever going to be a 21st Century fox, I need to give up watching Fox, and that means tonight’s episode of American Idol, during which the girls are going to take another shot at not suckingâ€"something I was really looking forward to. Tuesday is going to be a hard day to quit. Thank goodness I went ahead and voted for the eventual winner, Crystal Bowersox, seven times last week.
Every thirty minutes spent staring into that tube is lost down a black hole of false reality. Phillip K. Dick, the author of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (a.k.a Blade Runner) made a mockery of this habit with the literary invention of the "empathy box." His futuristic characters only saw the value in communicating their emotions (their empathy) into a picture box. Even if he was wrong about the proliferation of androids, I appreciate Phillip K. Dick’s 1968 warning of television’s increasing power over our lives.
So, goodbye, Alex Trebek.
Goodbye, Ellen.
Goodbye, NBC Thursday-night lineup.
I’ll miss you, TV; but on my deathbed, as my life flashes before my eyes, I don’t want to see a bunch of damn reruns. Perhaps this type of forethought would be a good rule of thumb for determining the value of any certain activity. At the end, would I rather look back and see myself couch surfing or big wave surfing? Do I want to have trivia knowledge *Jeopardy, have I loved* or wisdom? Was my laughter shared with Ellen and Amy Poehlerâ€"who are awesomely funny women, but still strangersâ€"or with my two younger sisters?
There’s a reason reality TV is so popular. People miss the unpredictable, fantastic nature of reality. At this phase, we’re tired of a scripted life. I, for one, am excited to stop living vicariously through TV personalities and start writing my own story. I’m going to let my imagination loose and start running wild. My windows will be opened to the world, MY worldâ€"and not some world invented by network execs. If I want drama, I need to get off the couch and go out more. If I want magic, if I want inspiration to embark upon my very own fairy tale, all I need to do is look up and open my eyes.
This article provided courtesy of our sister site: Beaufort County Now
I’m convinced, now more than ever, that spring was named after what it inspires: unbridled, spontaneous action. And so it is, that at the tail end of winter, with just a hint of the season to come, on a Tuesday, I’m going to make a lifestyle shift that will free up huge banks of airtime for all my spring adventures. I’m going to give up watching television.
Ever since the 1980’s, ‘wanting my MTV’ felt as natural as making trails of Reese’s Pieces leading to my bedroom, helping two Italian plumbers save a princess, or wearing a monokini and side ponytail. (I was duped.) But if I’m ever going to be a 21st Century fox, I need to give up watching Fox, and that means tonight’s episode of American Idol, during which the girls are going to take another shot at not suckingâ€"something I was really looking forward to. Tuesday is going to be a hard day to quit. Thank goodness I went ahead and voted for the eventual winner, Crystal Bowersox, seven times last week.
Every thirty minutes spent staring into that tube is lost down a black hole of false reality. Phillip K. Dick, the author of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (a.k.a Blade Runner) made a mockery of this habit with the literary invention of the "empathy box." His futuristic characters only saw the value in communicating their emotions (their empathy) into a picture box. Even if he was wrong about the proliferation of androids, I appreciate Phillip K. Dick’s 1968 warning of television’s increasing power over our lives.
I’ll miss you, TV; but on my deathbed, as my life flashes before my eyes, I don’t want to see a bunch of damn reruns. Perhaps this type of forethought would be a good rule of thumb for determining the value of any certain activity. At the end, would I rather look back and see myself couch surfing or big wave surfing? Do I want to have trivia knowledge *Jeopardy, have I loved* or wisdom? Was my laughter shared with Ellen and Amy Poehlerâ€"who are awesomely funny women, but still strangersâ€"or with my two younger sisters?
There’s a reason reality TV is so popular. People miss the unpredictable, fantastic nature of reality. At this phase, we’re tired of a scripted life. I, for one, am excited to stop living vicariously through TV personalities and start writing my own story. I’m going to let my imagination loose and start running wild. My windows will be opened to the world, MY worldâ€"and not some world invented by network execs. If I want drama, I need to get off the couch and go out more. If I want magic, if I want inspiration to embark upon my very own fairy tale, all I need to do is look up and open my eyes.
This article provided courtesy of our sister site: Beaufort County Now
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